


bury my love

by onelastwit (trailtothetruth)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: 5 times he tried again, 5+1 Things, F/M, and the 1 time he didn't, drifter's a meddling bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 05:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trailtothetruth/pseuds/onelastwit
Summary: He should've seen it from the start, the way the Nightstalker pulled him in. Five times he tried again, the 1 time he didn't, and Drifter's web has caught them both.





	bury my love

_1// gambit_

 

The first time they meet, she's invading his Gambit match, and she's a dark whirlwind of red, all of his teammates falling one by one to her blade. Then her focus is on him, and he narrowly dodges one phantom blade cutting through the air.

“The ornament's better for that one, you know,” he hisses, skipping backwards, nodding towards the Black Talon shining in her hands.

“No, it's gross,” she laughs back, and it catches him off guard enough to freeze as he huffs, and the void blade cuts through his body in one clean swing.

He respawns to Drifter lamenting in his ear, and he tries again.

 

_2// crucible_

 

The second time they meet, Shaxx is screaming through his comms as the battle wages on, neck and neck. A Nightstalker ducks past him, pulling out two shadowy blades just as Shaxx intones “Defeat”.

She doesn't stop, carving a warpath through the enemy, and noise bursts in Glyph's ears as their score ticks up one, two, three, and they've won.

They're still shaking their heads and congratulating the woman when they're pulled back into orbit, waiting for the next match, and a message pops up.

 **Zan** **: good seeing you again. thanks for the infamy ;-)**

 **Zan** **: the black talon ornament is still gross**

He blinks a couple times, trying to place the name, then realizes it's that Nightstalker who was invading with Black Talon. Who laughed mid-kill, who wholly made a Sparrow wreck of his team.

He could admire her, if he wasn't so damn frustrated, he thinks, as he types out a message.

 **Glyph** **: you too. Congrats on Dredgen.**

**ERROR: Message could not be sent. Guardian is no longer in your matchmaking lobby.**

He stares at the error message for a few seconds, feeling his heart sink - and he's not sure why - before he re-queues, and he tries again.

 

_3// vanguard_

 

The third time they meet, the Vanguard has summoned him to their private meeting room.

“You're here because we need elite Guardians on the field. The six of you are going to be the first Guardians in the depths of the Dreaming City, and you are going to kill Riven, the last known Ahamkara.”

The rooms goes silent enough to hear a pin drop as Zavala stands at the head of the table. He looks like he has the world resting on his shoulders.

“She has been Taken and with the gates of the Dreaming City open, she is now an immense threat to the Awoken, who have asked for our aid. You six must be ready to take on this task.”

They all look at each other. Glyph notices a familiar-looking figure among them, and when he gets the chance, approaches the Dredgen with Black Talon on her back. She turns, gives him a smile that is a bit too sharp with a bit too many teeth.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, but it doesn't relieve the tension. They're going to kill an _Ahamkara?_

“And you.” She glances over her shoulder. “Think I'll leave my non-ornamented Black Talon back on my ship this time.”

He snickers slightly. “Yeah, maybe not the situation.”

He glances around. Zavala is gone, and the other four Guardians, while obviously competent, are looking to him for direction. He breathes, in and out, and tries again.

 

_4// last wish_

 

He's lost count of how many hours it's been in the Dreaming City. Getting lost, climbing their way up sheer cliffs, being killed over and over and over.

They're all tired and drained and starting to snap, and they've just finish the huge, grossly inflated Ogre when Glyph looks at their team and knows they can't go on much longer. They need to rest, and so they set up camp in one of the passageways, and organize watches. He and Zan are the last watch, and he sleeps poorly if anything.

His dreams are filled with Taken and death and being Taken, the ugly feeling of the Taken Essence, and he wakes several times thinking he hears another awful laugh, another scream.

He and Zan sit back to back, rifles out. They don't speak all the way through their watch, and if not for her irregular breathing and the tiny twitches, he would've thought she was asleep. He doubts any of the others are either. But they have to try. Or they could lose everything.

“We can do this,” Zan finally murmurs as they stand, the moonlight shining through the windows casting harsh shadows on her face. “I know we can.”

He nods at her as he gets up, and he tries again.

 

_5// scourge of the past_

 

They've been working with each other for a long, long time now, and her sparrow weaves beside his as they race.

It would've been rather fun if not for the heat and fire and flames burning up the world around them, and the Servitor crooning behind them.

They've been working together long enough that when she yells “Hang on!”, he tightens his grip and holds steady, and a familiar weight lands behind him, one hand gripping his shoulder as she crouches, firing a pistol one-handed back at the Servitor. “Immune,” she growls, and he gets the impression of a ghost being summoned behind him before she pats his shoulder and jumps off.

Of course, he's weaving between two pillars at the time, and that pushes him off course enough to slam into one, and he's consumed in hot, seething flames.

When they all respawn again, back at the beginning, he tilts his head at her.

“Had to try,” she quips, and he shakes his head and tries again.

 

_0// the last word_

 

The second he picks up The Last Word, a shiver goes up his spine, and he knows there's someone watching him.

His mind goes back to all the stories he heard of Dredgen Yor as a young hunter, the Guardian killer, and what Drifter's told him about the Weapons of Sorrow, and he realizes quickly that whoever's there.. they may have come for the same reason.

A footstep. He clenches his new hand cannon harder, looking around wildly. His mind is frantic with fear, and he doesn't know why but the only thing that comes to mind is the Drifter smiling darkly at him and saying _nothing kills a guardian faster than another guardian._

A shimmer of void cloaking appears, ducking across an open space and his hands shake. He stills them.

Finally, they step out, a second too slow, and he draws fast, with deathly speed, and fires.

Their cloaking melts away to a familiar figure, and they take their helmet off. Blood drips from their hand.

“Season of the Drifter is beginning, didn't you hear?” They ask, and Zan's smile is a bit too sharp with too many teeth. She carries a gun that drips with Darkness, and he knows its name from the Vanguard reports he's been hearing.

Malfeasance.

He realizes, all at once, why he's here, why Drifter wanted this, and why she's here too.

“I thought, I thought Dredgen was just a name,” he gasps as he falls to his knees. Oh gods, he shot her. He can't do this.

His gaze fixates on her boots as she approaches him with slow steps. Blood drips in the dirt.

“Please, _Zan,”_ he gasps, and the cold barrel of a gun presses to his forehead, and he does not try again.


End file.
